


Machinery Can Still Be Open-Hearted

by radiofedora



Category: The Brave Little Toaster, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiofedora/pseuds/radiofedora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos knows that radios are supposed to speak. What he wasn't expecting was one to speak for itself.</p><p>Edit: Unfinished, and will probably remain that way</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Carlos Finds a New Radio

Carlos wasn’t quite sure where the radio had come from.

 

 

His last stereo had exploded into a small mushroom cloud of orange smoke after he’d tried to put a CD into it. Maybe the boombox was worn out, or maybe it just didn’t like Santana. Either way, Carlos was left without a way to listen to Cecil’s nightly radio show. A rather upsetting thought, if he was honest with himself. Cecil’s show had become a habit, as familiar and important to him as his morning cup of coffee.

 

 

Still, Night Vale had a way of getting him things he needed, so when Carlos found the little red radio sitting on his kitchen counter the morning after the stereo exploded, he didn’t think too much of it. More than likely, it was a gift from the Sheriff’s Secret Police, or possibly the Faceless Old Woman (he knew she enjoyed Cecil’s show as much as he did).

 

 

The radio was almost archaic, a Bakelite throwback from the 1950’s or so. It had a single-dialed face and an antenna. Carlos wasn’t even entirely sure the thing would work. When he plugged it in, however, it immediately picked up on the ‘hour of orca noises’ special that had been scheduled by the community radio station. Actually, the radio was broadcasting even better than the stereo had. Well, that settled that, then. He turned the radio off and went to work.

 

 

It wasn’t until a couple of nights later that Carlos noticed something... odd. He’d invited Cecil for dinner that night; the two of them were in the kitchen, Carlos at the stove, Cecil sitting at the counter. He had just turned to say something his boyfriend when he noticed the radio wasn’t on the counter where he’d left it. Carlos frowned in confusion, blinking as he noticed that the radio was now on the coffee table. “Cecil? Did you move the radio?”

 

Cecil was gazing fondly at his scientist, watching intently as Carlos made enchiladas. He blinked at Carlos, belatedly realizing that he’d been asked a question. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

 

“Did you move the radio?” Carlos asked again, still frowning.

 

Cecil shook his head, turning to follow Carlos’ gaze. “No? It was sitting on the coffee table when I got here. Why?”

 

The frown deepened for a moment before Carlos shrugged and turned back to the food. “No reason. Just... just imagining things, I think.” Cecil seemed to deem this an acceptable answer, immediately getting into a long diatribe about Steve Carlsberg and the letters he kept sending to the station. Carlos listened closely, all thoughts of the radio dropping from his mind. The rest of the evening went as planned, and Carlos wouldn’t have thought anything else of it.

 

Except, it kept happening. Any time Carlos was gone for more than a few hours, he’d come home to find the radio perched in another section of the house. Sometimes it was just a few inches to the left, sometimes it would be clear across the room. A couple of times, he found it on top of the refrigerator.

 

It wasn’t just the movement, either. Carlos was certain he could hear the radio playing before he opened the door to the apartment, but as soon as the key was in the lock, the sound always stopped. One night, he swore he even heard a voice, a voice that was definitely _not_   Cecil’s or anyone else’s he knew in Night Vale. Carlos had listened for a moment, only catching snippets of dialogue; he’d slammed the door open, searching for an intruder in his apartment, but all there was was that little radio, sitting innocently by the stove.

 

He’d left it in the bedroom.

 

This whole thing was getting rather ridiculous.

 

Science time it was, it seemed.

 

Carlos took the radio to the lab with him the next morning. He was bound and determined to figure out how this thing worked, whether it was possessed (always a high possibility) or if there was just some strange Night Valean phenomenon causing it to act this way. Carlos set the radio on his workbench as soon as he got in, then began searching for a pair of pliers and a screwdriver. He only turned away for a minute, but when he looked back, the radio was hidden behind a stack of paperwork. The scientist shook his head as he grabbed his screwdriver, picking the silly radio up and starting to unscrew its back panel.

 

And that’s when the radio smacked him with its antenna. Just once, across the hand, but sharply enough to make Carlos wince. “Ouch!” he exclaimed. “That hurt, you stupid thing.” He knew he was probably pretty foolish for yelling at an inanimate (possibly possessed) object, but it made him feel better.

 

“Yeah, well, what you’re doing doesn’t feel like a picnic, pal.” The voice that crackled from the radio’s speaker was sharp and dripping with sarcasm.

 

Carlos screeched, falling backwards out of his chair; the radio dropped to the desk. “Y-you can t-talk?!?” he stammered, blinking up over both the edge of the table and his glasses, which had fallen down his nose. “Eso es imposible. Radios don’t talk. I mean, they talk, but they don’t _talk_.”

 

“Hah! This radio talks, buddy, so you’d better get used to it.” The radio said. Carlos actually saw it move this time, taking a couple of steps backwards on its stubby pink feet. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to take me apart. That really does hurt, you know.”

 

“I’m... I’m sorry?” Carlos really had no idea how to react. He’d seen some very strange things during his time in Night Vale, but the talking, sentient radio was certainly towards the top of that list. “I didn’t realize-- look, how on earth are you doing that? Are you a remote-control, or something like that?”

 

“Nope. I’m an honest-to-goodness radio.” The voice had the slightest trace of an accent; somewhere North-Eastern, perhaps New York or Jersey. “Ask anybody. Ask Teddy Roosevelt.”

 

Carlos put a hand to his head. Teddy Roosevelt. He was sitting on the floor in his lab talking a radio that was talking back to him and had just told him to ask Teddy freaking Roosevelt about something. Maybe it was time to reevaluate his life choices. “Okay. So, you’re a radio. How did you get in my house?”

 

The radio scratched its dial with its antenna. “That? Your guess is as good as mine on that one, pal. I just woke up here the other morning. Hell of a shock. As none of the appliances around here are able to talk, so it’s a bit lonely. Especially since it seems none of my friends came with me, however I got here.”

 

“Your... your friends? There’s more of you?” This just kept getting stranger. Carlos righted his chair, sinking back into it with a sigh. 

 

“Well, where I come from, appliances are all like me. The moving and talking and whatnot. We’re not supposed to let the humans see, of course, but I wasn’t going to just let you take me apart like that. And things seem plenty weird around here, anyways.” The radio edged forward cautiously; he was fairly convinced the guy in front of him wasn’t going to attack him again. “I’ve got friends though, yes. Toaster, Blanky, Kirby, and Lampy. I’m Radio.”

 

“Imaginative names,” Carlos muttered. “You really have no idea how you got here?”

 

“None whatsoever.”

 

The scientist let out another sigh. “Well then. I guess I should probably take you to Cecil.”


	2. In Which an Offer Is Made

“So... you’re absolutely certain that it’s not possessed?”

 

Cecil sighed patiently. He’d spent the last hour examining the little red radio; it was a testament to his willpower that he was still calm after sixty minutes of Carlos’ constant questions and the radio’s enthusiastic chatter. “Yes, Carlos. I am _absolutely_ certain that he’s not possessed. I did minor in exorcisms in college. I also know a thing or two about radios in general.”

 

Radio would have been full-on smirking, if he’d had a mouth. As it was, his voice was dripping with amusement at the absolutely flabbergasted look on Carlos’ face. “See, pal? I told you. I’m just a radio. The coolest radio you’ll ever meet, of course, but a radio.”

 

Carlos sank into an armchair and threw his hands into the air in defeat. “Me doy por vencido,” the scientist proclaimed. “I have no idea what to do with this. Possession, I might have been able to accept. It’s too self-aware to be a robot, and if it’s not possessed or a remote-control, then... I honestly give up.”

 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, dear.” Cecil perched himself on the edge of the couch, smiling at his boyfriend. “There are just some things that defy explanation, like apple butter. Best not to question it. I think the better question, at this point, is where our friend here came from, and how to get him back.”

 

Carlos ran his fingers back through his thick hair. That was definitely a problem he could more readily wrap his brain around. Sentient appliances were entirely out of his paygrade. Although, to be perfectly honest, most things in Night Vale were at least _partially_ out of his paygrade. “Probably, yes. Where are you even from?” he asked the radio.

 

Said radio was currently lounging on the table where Cecil had been examining him. His antenna quirked in question as he thought. “Do you know, I’m not exactly sure,” the radio said softly. “I can’t quite remember.” He could see his home plain as day: the desk he shared with Lampy, the bedroom and living room and kitchen, but he couldn’t think where it was. Everything was a blur. “That’s rather troubling.”

 

“You don’t remember? This just keeps getting better and better,” Carlos said. “And you said you don’t even know how you got here, either?”

 

“Right.” The radio had been quite surprised when he’d woken up on the unfamiliar countertop. Doubly so when he realized that communicating with his fellow appliances in this strange place was nigh on impossible. He was kind of glad for Labcoat and Cecil, really, even if they were humans. At least he had someone to talk to.

 

“Do you remember what you were doing the night before?” Cecil chimed in. “Did you do anything out of the ordinary?”

 

Out of the ordinary? Not really, unless you counted his getting into another argument with Kirby and Toaster about the merits of being human over those of being an appliance. The radio had always had a fascination with humans, bordering on jealousy. Perhaps it was the fact that he spent the most time hearing about them, what with the stories he broadcast; perhaps it was just a nagging desire for something _more_. Maybe it was even simple want for an actual face. Whatever it was, he couldn’t deny that all in all, the humans had it much better.

 

“Out of the ordinary. No, I can’t say that I did,” was all he said. No need to go broadcasting his foolish dreams like that. Hell, the radio had never even mentioned it to any of his friends. He was sure at least Toaster suspected, but Slots wasn’t the sort to go pushing about that sort of thing.

 

“Well. What are we going to do with it, then?” Carlos asked. “Are talking appliances even allowed in Night Vale? I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a law about it, somewhere on record.” It really was a pain trying to keep track of what was and wasn’t legal in the town at any given moment. Carlos wasn’t sure which was more annoying, the standing ban on writing utensils or the one on wheat and wheat by-products. On the one hand, trying to do research and take notes all digitally could be a hassle; on the other, Carlos really missed having pastries with his morning coffee.

 

Cecil frowned, taking a sip of his lemonade before speaking. “No,” he said slowly. “No, I don’t think there’s a law against it, or anything like that.” Another sip of lemonade. “But it probably wouldn’t do to let anyone know about him. It’s bad enough that the Sheriff’s Secret Policeman outside your apartment knows. We’ll have to give him a tip to make sure he doesn’t tell anyone else.”

 

“So, we just hide him in my apartment?” Carlos rubbed his forehead. Since he had found out

the radio’s secret early that morning, the thing had been talking to him almost constantly. The scientist wasn’t sure how much more of that he could take. “That sounds... fabulous.”

 

Cecil shrugged. “Well, we could leave him here, or we could take him to my place. Although neither of those solves the ‘talking appliance’ problem. Not that it’s a problem!” he added hastily, giving the radio an apologetic smile. “I just don’t want anyone to try and throw you into the abandoned mineshaft or prison for being ‘unclassifiable’.”

 

The radio chuckled. “Unclassifiable. That’s a new one. I’ve definitely been called worse.”

 

“There’s not much worse in Night Vale than being unclassifiable, believe me. The City Council wouldn’t like it one bit,” Cecil replied. “It’s for things and people that defy explanation, like the Pyramid, for example. We really should keep as few people in the know as possible.”

 

“I could just sleep,” Radio offered. “It’s simple to just pretend to be inanimate. We do it whenever there’s anyone around.”

 

“I suppose, but that will make it very difficult for you to help us get you back home, won’t it?”

 

“So... do you have any ideas to fix this, querido?” Carlos asked.

 

Cecil thought for a moment, tapping his finger against his chin. He snapped his fingers with a sudden smile. “I do, I think! I’d have to find my old notes from high school, but I know there was something in my 12th grade transmogrification class about turning animals into people. All we should need to do is tweak it a bit to serve our purposes.”

 

Both the scientist and the radio turned towards Cecil slowly. There was a long moment of silence, and then both of them started talking at once.

 

“You’re joking--”

 

“That’s not physically possible, querido--”

 

“You can do that?”

 

“Cecil, you can’t--”

 

“Can we try it?”

 

“You can’t turn something into a--”

 

“You can test it on me, if you--”

 

“--person, that’s impossible.”

 

“--want to, I don’t mind.”

 

“Calm down, both of you!” Cecil couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. “Carlos. It is completely possible. Didn’t they teach you any basic transformation spells in high school? It should be fairly simple, considering he’s already sentient. The mind’s always the hardest part.” Cecil turned to the radio, who was trying not to look _too_ interested. “And yes, we can try it on you, if I can find my notes. As I said, I’ll need to rework it a little, but I’m fairly certain I can do it.”

 

“You’re... you’re serious. You’re actually serious,” Carlos muttered. He’d buried his head in his hands, completely lost. “This is an actual thing, isn’t it? You really think you can turn an animal or a talking radio-- _a talking radio_ , Cecil-- into a living, breathing human being?”

 

Cecil just sort of blinked at his scientist. “...yes?” he offered with a smile. He wasn’t entirely sure what all of the fuss was about. It was kind of endearing, how Carlos just didn’t understand certain fundamental aspects of Night Vale, like the clock tower. Not for the first time, Cecil wondered what life was like in Carlos’ hometown, and what sort of place didn’t even have basic shapeshifting charms.

 

“I’m rather confused about _how_ exactly you plan on doing this, buddy, but I’ll play guinea pig.” The radio was pacing across the table, watching Cecil intently. “It’s safe, right?”

 

“Oh, yes, perfectly safe, as long as we make the proper sacrifices and translate everything right.”

 

Radio paused in his steps, his antenna quirking. “Sacrifices. Right. That’s... huh.” He thought for a moment, weighing the options. It probably would help, being able to blend in more. And if it was actually possible... “Sure. Let’s go for it.”

 

Cecil’s smile widened. “Great! Now, here’s what we’ll need....”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read and kudos-ed and commented so far! It really means a lot to me. I'm glad everyone's enjoying it!

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by tumblr user LadyZolstice and this post: http://ladyzolstice.tumblr.com/post/61389667753/guys-i-have-no-idea-when-ill-recover-from-episode
> 
> I apologize for the shortness of the chapter. I tend to write in fits and starts. 
> 
> Rating has a high chance of going up. There may be porn, eventually. Maybe. 
> 
> This is my first fic in a /really/ long time, so please bear with me. 
> 
> The title comes from the Rush song "The Spirit of Radio."
> 
> If you have any questions or comments, I'm on tumblr at radiofedora. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
